


Where the Sea Kisses Earth

by ertrunkener_Wassergeist



Series: Deep as the Sea (Shine Your Eyes) [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Atlantis!Galahd, Character Death, Eldritch beings, Horror, Lovecraftian Elements, Lucis Falls AU, M/M, Mer!Nyx, Niflheim conquered Lucis earlier, Sick Noctis Lucis Caelum, Slow Burn, War, merfolk, tags will change as the story goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24374785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ertrunkener_Wassergeist/pseuds/ertrunkener_Wassergeist
Summary: Lucis has fallen. Cor Leonis is on the run, doing his best to keep the last promise he made to his King, his friend, his brother.Protect Noctis.What he finds along his journey will change the face of the world in unforseen ways.
Relationships: Cor Leonis/Nyx Ulric
Series: Deep as the Sea (Shine Your Eyes) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759948
Comments: 51
Kudos: 100





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, dear reader, to a new fic!  
> This work is dedicated to the lovely IgnisFelicis who gave me a prompt and it kinda ran away with me.   
> Be aware that when I say slow burn, I mean it. The romance will not be a sudden thing starting from chapter 2 or 3. Also yes, Lovecraftian elements. The terrors of the deep dark sea are real in this one. There will be horror elements, though this work isn't intended to be a horror story.  
> I hope you all have a great time reading!

Cor had lived long enough to know the feeling of being backed into a corner, of fighting on your last leg, quite intimately. This was worse than that.

Being practically unarmed and without magic was something he hadn't been, since he had been thirteen years old when Mors had sworn him into service. What had led him here, he could have gladly done without, but he hadn't had a choice, had he?

He only needed to close his eyes for but a second to see it again. _The sky, glowing red from the light of the engines of the Niflheimr drop-ships, their hum that vibrated through the air until his teeth clattered, the deep seated horror and disbelief as the Wall caved like broken glass-_

Another wave lurched to boat he was on and made his stomach drop down to his knees. The storm howled over the sea and drowned out every other sound but the roaring of his own blood in his ears. It was cold. Colder than it should be. Rain fell down in sheets and each drop felt like a knife wound with the force the storm battered them against the feeble coat he wore. He gritted his teeth and hunched his shoulders even more in a useless attempt to protect himself against the elements.

Cor had given up on steering the little boat he had stolen from some poor, unsuspecting fisherman. He had never been great at handling a boat and now it was all he could do to keep it from overturning. It should have been early afternoon by now, but it was too dark to see much of anything. The roiling clouds swallowed every ounce of sunlight there should have been.

He tried to check on the only other occupant of the boat, but with the rain running into his eyes and the darkness of the storm, it was an exercise in futility. Gripping the rudder with a white knuckled grip, he stretched out one hand until it came into contact with a shivering pile of blankets. He sighed in relief.

They needed to get out of this storm. And fast. Noctis was already sick, and if the storm didn't let up, it would only get worse. Cor couldn't let that happen.

Lightning flashed and the Marshall squinted against the sudden brightness. Had there been another ship on the horizon? He strained his eyes against the rain but couldn't see anything but darkness and water. A curse tumbled from his lips and he threw his wight against the rudder as another wave took them. Wood groaned in protest.

Why hadn't Regis listened to him? They had known Niflheim was up to something. They all had _known_ but still Regis hadn't _listened_ and now-

Another flash of lightning illuminated the roaring darkness. For the fraction of a second Cor could see a rock needle reaching into the sky on his left. More curses were ripped from his lips by the stormy winds.

They were _here_?

The Galahdian Sea?

Cor knew the myths about Galahd. Everybody did. About a group of islands west of the Lucian continent that had been swallowed by an impenetrable storm. And after days and days, when the storm had finally abated, the islands had vanished with it. Gone without a trace. Only a lonely rock needle marked the spot where they had once been. To this day only very few people dared to come within viewing distance of it. Many a boat had vanished in these waters without a trace.

And here he was, Cor Leonis, failed Marshall and failed protector, a broken sword, close enough to see the silhouette in it's entirety every time lightning flashed.

He had always felt a certain fascination with the old myths since he was a teenager. And now it was this fascination and the mind numbing claws of desperation that made him try to steer towards the rock needle. The entryway to a sunken land, if the tales were true.

Every single one of Cor's limbs trembled in exertion, fatigue and hunger. He was at the end of his rope. Which was why, when the next wave came, his grip on the slick wood slipped. His elbow collided painfully with the wooden edge and his stomach lurched as he felt himself sail through the air.

A startled breath was all he managed before water engulfed him. The freezing cold startled his tired brain into action. Salt burned in his eyes as he forced them open to help him guess where the surface was. Everything was dark. Then another thought flashed through his exhausted mind like a whirlwind.

_Noctis!_

Cor had no idea where he was, where up was, where the boat was or the boy he loved as if he were his own. But still he started to swim. He could not let Noctis die. It did not matter if he himself survived, but Noctis had to live by whatever means necessary.

It was cold and dark and silent. So, so silent. Everything around him seemed to hold its breath as he struggled to keep the last promise he had made towards his King, his friend, his brother.

_“Protect my son. Protect him, whatever it takes.”_

He had done so as he had to flee a burning city, a crying child in his arms. He had done so as the Emperor had declared a price for their heads. He had done so until their pursuers had forced him to steal a boat, stash his prince, sick with fever, within and pray to Leviathan that they would manage to escape and be _safe_.

They weren't safe.

Instead a storm had found them and thrown them into the Galahdian Sea.

Cor felt his throat constrict with the need to breath as he swam further and further. His lungs screamed for oxygen and his movements became weaker by the second. Pinpricks of light flashed in front of his eyes and for the first time since falling into the ocean, he heard something.

A song.

Voiceless and ancient and deep.

It beckoned him to stop, to give into the urge to open his mouth and breath in. It lulled his muddled mind to sleep with promises of rest and reprieve, of an end to his worries.

Cor bit into his cheek hard enough to taste blood. He would not fail his duty! Not again! And if the Six themselves wanted to prevent him from doing so.

There was a sound, the feeling of water flowing along his skin and suddenly he felt a small body beneath his hands. His relief was short lived. He had no idea which way was up and he had no air left in his lungs. And neither had Noctis. Still, with the strength of desperation he struggled onwards.

Water pushed against him from all sides, seemed to grow thick as syrup. Was he even moving anymore? His limbs grew heavy, his grip lax. In the farthest corner of his mind Cor was aware that he was dying. That he had failed in the last task given to him. His eyes fluttered shut and with the last flickers of awareness he _hated_.

* * *

With a gasping cough Cor startled upright. Coarse sand scraped against the palms of his hands as he attempted to grip something. A weapon, anything. The next thing he realized was that he was breathing at all. Rattling, wet breaths that tasted like saltwater and sand and hurt his lungs and throat, but he was breathing.

He forced his eyes to remain open against the blinding brightness of the sun. Its light painted bright spots through the branches of ancient trees that swayed gently in a cool breeze. The sky was a midsummer blue with no clouds in sight.

Next to him a pitiful whine sounded.

“Noctis!” he rasped.

Another coughing fit followed. To his right on the beach, curled tightly into a ball, was the young prince of Lucis. The boy was still asleep and shivering, his skin pale from fever, but he was alive. The sheer relief from that made Cor sink back onto the sand, boneless. One of his large, calloused hands found his prince's chest and lay there, feeling it rise and fall with each breath.

They were _alive_.

Somehow, through a miracle of Leviathan and Ramuh combined, they were alive.

Scrambling upright again, Cor tried to figure out what had happened. All his muddled mind could come up with was the touch of smooth scales, the feeling of a gentle hold and a pair of glowing blue eyes in the silent darkness that sang an ancient, incomprehensible song.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The myth of a nation sunken beneath the waves

The first time Cor had heard of the mythical islands that made up Galahd, he had been four years old. His mother had abandoned him to the elder widow in their little village community, who looked after the younger children while the parents were at work – not that his mother had worked. Instead she had most likely gallivanted off to the only inn to get drunk.

At four, Cor did not know this, only that his mother had left him with the old lady with the sad eyes again, like every other adult seemed to do. So it wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that they weren't allowed to go outside. It was early autumn and the rain was falling in glimmering ropes, turning the unpaved streets into a muddy marsh.

Cor, who would rather run outside with his trusty sword – it was NOT a stick! - and beat up imaginary daemons, even in this weather, was not happy. At all. So he sat there, pouting, by the bookshelves while the other children ran around the living room. They were playing an impromptu game of the floor is lava, Cor would have totally won, if he hadn't remembered he was sulking because he couldn't go outside.

His gaze wandered along the many books on the shelves. These were the largest amount of books he had ever seen, and he wondered, if maybe the woman watching them was secretly a witch. One of those that sold knowledge and potions, like he had heard some grown-ups talk about once.

One book in particular caught his eye. It was a thin volume with a brilliant blue spine, that contrasted sharply with the surrounding books.

“Do you want me to read you a story?” the old woman and probably-witch asked when she noticed what he was looking at.

Cor scowled at her, though it looked more like a pout. His temporary caretaker just smiled, used to the antics of the wild child sitting in front of her bookshelves. He squinted up at her. Her smile carved even deeper wrinkles into her weathered skin. She was definitely a witch, Cor decided with all the certainty of a four year old boy, and gave a decisive nod.

Refusing the knowledge a witch offered you freely was a dumb thing to do. That, too, he had learned from the grown-ups. It gave you nothing but curses. Even if he wasn't quite sure what a curse was.

Without further ado, the old woman sat down on the floor next to him. Her old joints creaked audibly and her mouth thinned into t tight line as she did.

“Which one would you like to hear? Would you like me to tell you about Somnus Lucis Caelum? Or about the discoveries the Wanderer made on his travels?” She eyed the wooden sword he never was without. “How about the Warrior or the Conqueror? No? How about the Bloody? It's said he used to bath not only in the blood of his foes but also in that of the daemons he slew.”

At the last one Cor ceased to shake his head. That King he hadn't heard of until now. Everybody knew of Somnus and how he had founded Lucis and his mother had told him about the Wanderer and the Warrior and the Conqueror when she wasn't crying or screaming or throwing things around.

Again the brilliant blue spine of the thin book caught his eye. He pointed at it and the old woman raised an eyebrow.

“You want to know about Galahd?”

Cor had no idea what Galahd was, but blue was his favourite colour and he wanted to know. He nodded. The old woman smiled and reached for the book. Its cover showed an island besieged by an old man wielding lightning and a snake like creature with blue scales in the water.

The whole thing turned out to be a picture book. At first Cor found that mildly disappointing, but as it turned out, those pictures were _interesting_.

“In ancient times there existed an island nation known as Galahd. It was located in the far west between the shores of Lucis and Tenebrae. The islands were so beautiful that even the Astrals came to see their beauty and they were so impressed by the devotion and goodness of the people, they blessed them with never ending wealth and long lives.”

Cor looked at the picture of what were most likely the Six – he instantly liked the one who had wings made out of _swords_ – surrounding a group of islands, and wondered what 'devotion' meant. Though he didn't ask, because asking about things tended to push his mother to have another of her fits.

“With the Astrals blessing, Galahd became a nation that rivalled the fallen Solheim. They traded with all who came to their shores, were friendly and helpful and gave riches freely to those who didn't have any. But then-” The caretaker turned the page and the next picture showed a black cloud creeping into a majestic port city- “the Starscourge came and things changed. The people of Galahd grew weary of outsiders, turning ships away, not caring if the voyagers were in dire need of help or not. They hoarded their wealth, their resources and started to built a large wall to keep everyone out.”

With every page turned the pictures became darker and darker, the Galahdian people started to be depicted with grotesque faces and strange proportions. Cor wasn't sure he liked this story.

“And the worse the situation grew, the more displeased the Six grew. When the Conqueror King came with his fleet of ships and was turned away, the people of Galahd had not only slighted the King of Lucis, but also Bahamut himself, who is the patron of the royal house. As the King of the Gods, he ordered the others carry out his justice. Ramuh, the Fulgarian and Lawkeeper, judged Galahd unworthy of their blessing, and covered the islands in a storm that lasted for seven days and seven nights. When the storm finally abated, Galahd was gone, swallowed by Leviathan, the Hydraean, for their hubris and their greed.

Now all that remains of Galahd is a lonely rock needle, and it is said that those who dare to come too close to it, looking for fame and ancient riches, are never seen again.” The old woman gave a wry smile. “There is an old saying. 'Lightning strikes only the greedy.'”

For years after that, Cor had been afraid of storms. Not because of the rain, or the dark clouds or the booming thunder. It was neither of those.

It was the lightning.

Cor didn't really understand what greedy was, but he knew it was bad. For years, until well into his teenage years, he had been afraid the lightning would take him away, like it had done with a whole nation. Because all he had ever done was _want_. He wanted a father, he wanted a mother that did not scream and cry and rage, he wanted adventure, he wanted comrades, he wanted people to stop looking at him with fake understanding and condescension.

Now Cor stared up at the stone needle seemingly piercing the sky, his best friend's son clutched close to his chest, and wondered if Ramuh had finally deemed him too greedy for wanting to get back the family and home he had built in Insomnia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya guys!  
> A little exposition before we get to the story proper. But then again, it's kinda important to know what the rest of the world thinks happened with Galahd, no? I hope bby!Cor was a nice addition. But he's also selective mute (and just can't have a nice childhood for some reason ^^;)  
> Hope to see y'all next chapter!


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is the exploration of new surroundings.

The first few days blurred together in a sleepless haze full of worry for Noctis, the search for shelter, water and food. It was easy to avoid coming too close to the ocean during that time. They may have been stranded on an island, but it was big enough that Cor could barely hear or smell it when he stood amidst the jungle-like fauna.

There was a small creek a few minutes walk away from the ocean, and close to it a strangely deformed tree. It was hollow and large enough for both of them, and the way it curled in on itself gave an extra layer of protection. So at least two of his immediate problems had been fixed – more or less – before the sun had set on their first evening on the island.

Food was a bit more difficult. Some fruit and plants he found, he knew to be edible, some looked like they might be, but that had never said anything, and hunting with only a heavy duty utility knife and a tactical survival knife at his disposal, had been delegated to primitive traps.

Luckily Noctis became aware enough sometimes to eat and drink something, though those phases never lasted long, and Cor wondered, if his charge would remember them at all later. The fever fell and rose and did not want to abate, no matter what he did. It was maddening.

Once, during the night, when Cor should have been sleeping, but had not been able to, he could have sworn to see blueish light shimmer along Noctis' skin, though it was gone within the blink of an eye, and he wondered, if his sleep deprived mind was now seeing things.

On their third day on the island, Cor made sure Noctis was hidden as well as he could be, and decided to properly explore his immediate surroundings. It left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he needed to know how defensible their position was in case they were being found. He would also take the opportunity to look for better shelter and food sources.

The trees here were larger than any he had ever seen in Lucis as a whole. Their high canopies made the air seem green as the sun shone through the leaves. For some inexplicable reason he felt like he was walking through a cathedral. The whole jungle seemed wild, but the longer he walked the more he couldn't shake the feeling that had been building within him for the last few days.

That everything here seemed so deliberate.

Nothing grew in neat patterns, but everything was spaced far enough apart to have room to breathe and grow, there were trees and bushes with nuts and fruit everywhere. Cor thought he spotted some wild carrots at the edge of a clearing. The fragrance of growing herbs was strong there. A tree grew at the centre of the clearing, gentled the sun with its wide and gnarled branches. Grass brushed along his knees as he walked towards it.

It was obviously ancient. Beneath large spots of rust red moss and lichen, the bark was a golden bronze. It's leaves danced in the warm wind with quiet whispers and painted enchanting pictures of light and shadow. Large roots had risen over the centuries and formed large hollows.

It would be so easy to just lay down at the base of the tree and rest.

Something about this tree was making Cor antsy. It wasn't necessarily the tree's age. No matter how much it made his skin itch to walk in a jungle where the _bushes_ were often taller than Lucian trees. Without really realizing it, he leaned closer to inspect the bark. The texture looked very rough with deep grooves that the moss clung to. Cor had seen a tree like this before. He just could not remember where.

Proof that there had at least once been humans here, came after a half an hour walk after he had left the tree behind. Without warning the jungle suddenly stopped and the ground turned from soft earth, dead leaves and roots, to naked stone.

Cor stood there and stared at the base of the huge stone needle. Here in the open, the sun beat down upon him hot and unforgiving. Sweat made his clothes and hair stick uncomfortably to his skin. But still he moved along the edge of the jungle, keeping to the cooler shadows as much as he could.

It didn't take him long to figure out that the edge between jungle and rock formed a perfect circle. For that he didn't need to walk around the whole thing, but he did so anyway. Or at last, he planned to until he found the stairs.

Once upon a time they had been chiselled into the stone needle with a careful hand. Now time, wind and weather had made them crooked and uneven. It was still visible though, that thousands of feet had gone up and down these stairs for a very long time. They were simple, without any adornments that might have survived until this day, and wound their way up in serpentines until they vanished into the rock.

Was there something within the stone needle? A temple perhaps? Or a stronghold?

It would be worth to check it out as a potential hideout either way. The people who had lived on this island had obviously been gone for a long time, if this was all that had survived of their culture. But something kept bothering Cor about this. On his way back to Noctis, long faded memories drifted at the edge of his consciousness.

A blue book. An old caretaker telling him a story.

* * *

Noctis dreamed.

At least, he thought he was dreaming.

The last thing he could remember clearly from before the fog, was the crystal sharp bite of age old magic, how it had bitten deep into his bones. How it had settled into his very being, and then shredded something within him, when he had buckled under the sheer weight of it.

That something had been important. At least, Noctis thought it had been, even when he could not remember what it had been.

He also remembered Cor. His face a blank mask full of soot and red splashes that had scared Noctis. Though not as much as the rattling sound of moving MT and the cracks of gunshots behind them.

Now there was only the fog. It was all around him. Cool and wet and soothing, it danced on a wind Noctis couldn't feel, and formed wispy figures that vanished just as quickly as they had come into being. The boy did not like it. No matter how often it ruffled his hair or brushed his heated cheeks with cool fingers.

There was only one thing he wanted. One person. He wanted...

For the blink of an eye the world became nothing but static.

Yes, whom did he want?

Every time he tried to remember, his head seemed to split apart with a white hot flash of pain.

Wet grass tickled his bare toes as they involuntarily flexed. He could not feel earth, only grass. Something about that made him shiver.

What had he been thinking about again?

A sudden movement to Noctis' right made trails of fog dance close to where the ground should be. Had there been something? The boy wasn't sure. It was hard to see anything – there were only different gradients of white. Not even the grass he stood upon was visible.

There it was again.

Closer now.

Air brushed a shroud of fog against his skin. He shivered again.

Had there been something solid? White and small and furry? Or had it been a greyish shadow Noctis forgot the moment he had seen it?

It didn't really matter to Noctis. Something solid meant company. Company meant warmth. Something other than cold and wet fog with its eternal whiteness, and the feel of grass beneath his feet where there was none.

Noctis turned, and for the first time since coming to this dream, started to walk. Deeper into the fog he went, following the hints of movements that were always just barely visible from the corners of his eyes.

With each step the young boy took, he left behind a trail of footprints. Liquid gathered within them. It glowed in a crystal blue light pulsing like a faint heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaannnd done!
> 
> I'm sorry this is so short and nothing much happens. But it's a transitional chapter and also a setup chapter for some things. The next one will have a bit more meat on it's bones.  
> And we got a bit on Noctis! Sadly he doesn't know that you shouldn't follow strange beings down the rabbit hole.   
> Nyx will appear soon! Please be a bit more patient with me XD I tagged this as a slowburn for a reason.
> 
> Until next chapter!


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something in the air. Watching, judging. Cor should stop thinking of everything as a challenge.

That night Cor could barely sleep. He lay on the naked ground and stared up at the foliage overhead as if it could reveal all which he wanted to know. He saw nothing but darkness, heard nothing but Noctis' laboured but steady breath and the nocturnal wildlife of the jungle.

For hours now his thoughts had circled around what he remembered about the story of Galahd. The mystical island nation that had been pulled beneath the ocean. Drowned by the fury of the Six for their sins, people told, and used it as a cautionary tale against hubris. _If this was really how the Six were supposed to act against nations who had grown an inflated ego, then they should have drowned Niflheim over a century ago,_ Cor mused and closed his eyes in another attempt to fall asleep.

The Citadel shook again. Cor didn't slow his breakneck speed as he hurried through the vacated halls. The servants and most of the government had been evacuated nearly a day ago. Now all that remained were barely enough soldiers to defend the huge structure, and the royal family itself.

Cor growled a curse as he collided with the wall in front of him. Ignoring the dull pulsating of pain in his shoulder, he took a ninety degree turn and continued to run down the corridor, his breath sounding harsh in his ears.

The shaking stopped. It only made him push himself harder.

If only Regis had listened to him. Maybe if Clarus were still alive, he...

There was not much time left. The city was falling. And still the King tried to retain an ever shrinking magic wall to protect as many of his people as possible. Regis must know he was fighting a losing battle. He must know that. Why was he still here?

Another tremor shook the Citadel to it's very foundations. Cor could hear the whole building groan under the burden of the colliding energies. Glass shattered.

He arrived at the next flight of stairs and started climbing, taking two steps at a time. The lifts had quit working when the tremors had first started. A precautionary act, but the stairwells were situated so far apart, it took Cor a long time to climb them up to reach the King. Too long.

Another set of empty hallways and empty rooms. Shards of toppled vases littered the ground. Their flowers scattered across the marble floors and fine black carpets in a tragic beauty.

Finally the last stairwell, and beyond that a wide, open room. Shards of glass glittered in the blueish light the condensed Wall gave off. Without really looking, Cor jumped over the dead bodies of Lucian soldiers and remains of MTs – remainders of Niflheim's last near successful infiltration attempt a few hours ago – to reach the heavy doors behind which the Crystal Room was located. The doors opened with a sputtering hiss.

There Regis was, hair white as snow and deep wrinkles carved into his skin. His King had aged decades over the last few days. The hand bearing the Ring of the Lucii, it's gem twinkling like a star, nearly touched the crystal – but not quite. Near tangible tendrils of light floated through the room.

“Majesty!”

Cor's legs nearly gave out in relief, though it was short lived. It was clear Regis would not last much longer.

“Cor,” the King's voice was weary and hoarse with exhaustion. “Protect my son. Protect him, whatever it takes.”

It was like someone had just slid a dagger into Cor's heart. His breath stuttered and his blood pounded in his ears so loudly, he barely could make out his King's next words.

“I know what I'm asking of you, my friend. You're the only one still alive I would entrust his life to. Please, take him.”

He wanted to say no. Wanted to stay and fight by his King's side, be the sword he was always meant to be, but the words refused to pass his lips. Solemn green eyes met steely blue. It would be their last farewell, both knew, and it would pass in the silent understanding that Cor would do anything to protect the future of Lucis, the one thing most precious in the world to Regis. His son.

A young, tear stained face looked up at him from behind Regis' legs as calloused fingers pressed a burning cold ring into his hand.

With a choked cry and his heart leaping into his throat, Cor jerked awake. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. Most of the jungle had grown quiet and it was still dark.

Wait, that was not quite right.

Instinctively he turned towards the slight shimmer of blue that pulsated like a heartbeat, and made a choked off sound.

Noctis was lying to his left, as far away from the entrance inside the hollow tree that was their shelter, as possible. His breath was still even, if laboured, and the boy was still asleep. What had Cor's heart stutter in his chest in worry and disbelief, was the slight glow that travelled along his charge's skin. Had it not been as dark as it was, Cor doubted he would have noticed it.

“By the Grace of the Six, what...?”

His voice was gravelly with sleep. The silence of the night was his only answer.

Cor hesitated for barely a heartbeat before his hand found Noctis' forehead. His skin was still too warm to the touch, but cooler than it had been before. Had the glow something to do with his heritage?

Without really realizing what he was doing, he fumbled for the ring he wore on a chain around his neck. As always, it was cold to the touch, near uncomfortably so. Power thrummed within this ring. It sang like a siren beneath his skin, urging him to put it on. The ring needed a wearer, otherwise it was unable to serve its purpose. But Noctis was still too young, still only a child of barely eight years. No one else would survive the consequences of doing so. Cor pushed all that potential he could feel trying to urge him on, aside and looked down. The tiny crystal stone pulsed in time with the glow shimmering on Noctis' skin. It had to be crystal related.

Not for the first time the near crippling wish that Regis had survived filled him. His King would have known what to do. But here, now, there was only Cor Leonis, and he had no idea what should be done next.

* * *

He spent the rest of the night wide awake, alternating between staring at Noctis, the ring and into the darkness, as if any of those three would able to give him answers. None were forthcoming.

When the first hints of light reached beneath the thick jungle canopy, Cor lightened a fire to warm up the meat broth he had set up yesterday evening. He spent the day by Noctis' side, caring for him, talking in what he hoped was an encouraging and soothing voice. His bedside manners had never been the best.

The next day was spent in a similar manner, even though the glow did not return. As far as Cor could tell, at least.

On the third day he forced himself to leave long enough to check his traps and gather berries he could ground into a paste for Noctis. That night the glow did not return either.

The fourth morning dawned bright and cheerful. Like the last few mornings, Cor set up a fire to heat up some broth in an improvised pot for Noctis, did his best to make him swallow said broth and made sure he was comfortable. Afterwards he ate his own breakfast – the roasted leg of a hare that had been captured by one of his traps – and stood in their little camp, restless energy vibrating beneath his skin and not sure what to do.

The thick foliage barred his view of the huge stone needle, but Cor knew it was there. With each day he could feel the urge to go there again and explore, grow. But could he? Should he?

His gaze fell upon his sleeping charge. Noctis looked so small, lying there, cushioned by his jacked and covered by his coat. The fever seemed to be nearly gone, though his skin was still clammy and pale. He had done everything he could for now. It was the best time he would be able to find, to stake out the stone needle.

So, after some more back and forth where Cor stalked through the camp like a caged animal, he went. The weather was a bit cooler than the last few days, and a few lonely clouds drifted through the sky. It was a good time to go exploring.

His way lead him directly to the strange border between the jungle and the naked stone ground that seemed to form a perfect circle. It couldn't be natural, but it didn't look like human hands had been involved in this either. As far as he could tell, there were no other people upon this island. The only clue he had of intelligent life, were the stone steps he had found during his first foray deeper into the island.

He stood at their base and looked up at where they vanished into what looked suspiciously like a doorway of some kind. A feeling of anticipation mixed with dread crawled up his spine and made him shudder minutely. There was something going on here, and every fibre of his being itched with the need to find out. But there was also something else. Something he couldn't explain. It was like a whisper at the back of his mind, humming a song he was sure he had never heard but knew anyway. And he wanted, no _needed_ to know what it was.

His first step forward happened without conscious thought. Like an invisible string had tugged at his leg, made his foot rise, and set it down on the first stone step. After that it was like a spell was broken.

Beneath his feet he could feel the shallow hollows thousands of people walking up and down these steps for hundreds of years, had left behind. It was a strange feeling. This might very well be the only hint a whole civilization had left behind of its existence, and it made Cor feel like every single person who had ever walked these steps, had left a part of themselves in the stone.

With an amused snort at his own thoughts, Cor climbed the stairs. Despite it being cooler, he still started to sweat after only a few minutes. The air was humid and smelled of dust and ancient stone.

The doorway the stairs lead to, wasn't really a doorway. It lacked a door, for one. In that aspect, it was more like an archway. At first glance the edges of it looked like unworked stone, carved by wind and weather. But the longer Cor stood at the edge between shadow and sunlight and looked, the more he couldn't help but feel that there was something deliberate about the grooves, that looked like they had been carved by rainwater.

To distract himself from patterns his brain said weren't there, but some primal part of him insisted were very much present, he tried to peer into the shadows beyond the archway, though the position of the sun made it impossible to see more then the vague shapes of walls, a ceiling and steps vanishing into darkness.

For one long moment Cor hesitated. The cool breath from within reminded him vaguely of Taelpar Crag. It sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head, chiding himself for being silly. He needed a better shelter for Noctis and himself. The good weather wouldn't hold forever and solid walls would also help against possible predators.

With a fierce frown on his face, he stepped through the archway. The fingers of his left hand drifted along the surprisingly smooth – it actually felt like something close to silk – wall to help his orientation, while his right settled at the grip of his knife. Who knew what animals might use this as their den. Better be safe than sorry.

A set of stairs wound itself further up in a tight spiral, and the space was wide enough that two people could walk next to each other comfortably. Within seconds it was pitch dark, but still Cor continued to climb the stairs. The only sounds he could hear were his own, echoing along the stone walls.

Cor estimated he had climbed two full spiralling circles, when his foot suddenly hit air where a step should have been. There was a split second of panic as his left hand tried to grip the smooth wall, when his foot landed on even ground. Cor stumbled another step forward before he could catch his footing. Dimly, he noted that his steps didn't cause an echo, so the room or corridor he was in, must be relatively small.

Carefully, he set one foot in front of the other, annoyed at himself; he should have brought a staff or something with him. There were certainly enough branches within the jungle which could be fashioned into one.

It took him approximately seven steps until he was confronted with another problem. A wall. He nearly hit his head, would have, if his toes hadn't found it first. Not bothering to bite back the growled courses rolling over his tongue in the three languages he knew, he trailed his hand along the wall.

For the first time he noticed something other than the near unnatural smoothness of the stone. Gentle bumps and grooves that must form a picture of some kind. Calloused fingers followed a line that wound in on itself in gentle slopes and sudden turns. Cor's mind conjured the image of a knot that had neither a beginning nor an end.

After a few more moments he abandoned that line, reaching further to the right until his hand hit air. Another archway then. Relieved, Cor reoriented himself and stepped though.

That was when he noticed it: a tiny shimmer in the absolute darkness around him.

Had his eyes not been adjusted to the dark, he wouldn't have been able to perceive it, it was so weak. But now it was enough to make him instinctively change his course. No matter how foolish, the eyes were the sense humans relied on the most to discern their surroundings.

His way lead him though another archway, following the weak shimmer until he saw what caused it. Not sunlight, but rather traces of a kind of lichen or moss that... glowed. For a moment Cor stared at the speck of florescent lichen-moss that clung to the corner of a carved line in the wall. That was not what he had expected.

He turned his head and found another speck not too far from the first. He walked up to it and found a corner. The light the lichen-moss gave off was still too weak to see by, so he carefully shuffled around the ninety degree turn and found even more specks clinging to the wall next to him. Cor blinked.

What was this? He didn't quite dare to touch it.

Despite the feeling that started to settle in his gut, he continued on and followed the steadily growing number of tiny specks. They clung to the corners of the corridors Cor walked along, as well as the edges of the carved patterns. He still couldn't quite see them with his own eye, but the lichen-moss retraced them enough that he knew his first impression of knots hadn't been entirely wrong.

He approached yet another corner, but this time a shimmer of light spilled along the floor. Unconsciously hurrying his steps, Cor walked the last few metres and turned only to freeze. A sound, half yelp half a shocked cry echoed through the huge, cavernous room.

Swathes of lichen-moss crawled along large parts of the wall and hung from the high ceiling in delicate formations that dimly reminded him of the long sweeping branches of trees, he had only ever seen in Tenebrae.

The room was cathedral like and abandoned all notions of set corners and human order. Instead it was chaotic, hypnotic almost, with columns winding in on themselves, sometimes branching like the branches on a tree, or vanishing in the floor or walls in large arches. Cor saw all of that, but it wasn't what made his heart leap in his chest and something in his hindbrain go _run-duck-hide!_

Form frozen, muscles tense as bowstrings, he stared at the gargantuan... _thing_ at the other end of the room. It was absolutely overgrown with the lichen-moss but that did not make Cor want to throw up by looking at it any less. There was a mass of spiralling appendages and joints in places where they had no right to be, in a number that shouldn't exist. There was no torso, but he just couldn't call that one formation there a head either. Even with that one eye that seemed to stare straight at him from within a delicate frame of glowing lichen-moss.

Cor swallowed, regardless of the fact that his mouth was as dry as dust. There was a pressure in the air that reminded him of being underwater, strangely enough, though that thought barely registered. With a shaking hand he reached for the knife at his hip. It wouldn't do anything – because there was no living thing to fight – but it made him feel better instantly.

Only once had he come even close to feeling like he did now. At Taelpar Crag. There had been a power there, watching, judging. The pressure of it had scratched along his skin, and, in his youthful ignorance, he had taken it as a challenge.

Now he was older, more experienced and he had a charge he needed to look after. All of that still didn't stop him from baring his teeth and snarling in the mockery of a challenge until it turned into a strained sneer.

The pressure in the air rose until he could barely breathe. Cor felt like he was drowning. Gasping for a breath that wouldn't come – _oh Astrals what was happening this shouldn't happen he needed to breathe why wouldn't it come Crystal's Light HELP_ – he instinctively reached for the ring hanging on a chain around his neck.

Steely coldness seared his palm, crawled under his skin and burrowed into his bones. The crystal shard embedded in the Ring of the Lucii shone bright enough to burn Cor's eyes. A whisper filled the air, it sounded like hundreds of voices speaking the same words at the same time, though Cor couldn't understand a single syllable.

For a single agonizing moment the air grew tense enough that Cor could feel the edges of his vision darken. Then, like the ring of a bell, something like recognition travelled along the air, and suddenly it was all gone. The tension of possible violence, the feeling of being watched and judged, all of it. The air felt ancient and untouched. Clean and musty at the same time, smelling dry and mossy.

Cor picked himself up from the ground – when had he gone down? - the Ring of the Lucii still clutched tightly in his fist. With a hiss of pain he unclenched his hand. Glowing crystal blue veins of magic spread along his palm and over his wrist, the ring at the centre. Around the edges his skin had become an ashen grey and flaky. With a trembling hand Cor tucked the ring back under his clothes.

What was going on here?

The stillness of the air was his only answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaannnd done!
> 
> This chapter took a turn I did not expect. It was pretty fun though. Trying to describe an eldritch horror cave was something of a challenge. What do you think of it? I hope I did the picture in my mind justice and would be very interested to hear what you guys imagined.  
> Cor thinks he's grown up and matured, but well... here he is challenging something he can't even comprehend. Way to go Cor XD  
> I also should probably change the tags to eldritch horror/romance...  
> Hope y'all had fun reading!
> 
> 'Til next chapter


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